No Bad Days: Honoring Cole Stevens and His Love for the Trail
Before Cole could walk, he was climbing. Amy, Cole’s mother, remembers lowering his crib to the safest setting, only to turn around and find him pulling himself up and launching over the rails–not yet a year old, but already reaching for what lay beyond.
“He was just so curious,” she says. “He needed to know what was on the other side.”
That curiosity didn’t define how Cole’s life ended–it defined how he lived. He approached the world with wonder, courage, and an openness that invited others to see it differently, too.
On February 11, 2024, Cole’s life was cut short at the age of 23 in a motorcycle accident. His time was brief, but it was full, shaped by his belief in No Bad Days and his deep love for the outdoors. The way he lived continues to guide those who carry his story forward.
A Life Lived with Intention
Cole didn’t just hike trails–he experienced them fully. Friends often struggled to keep pace as he bounded ahead, pausing only to share the next breathtaking view.
“He got so much out of every single day,” one friend shared. “Even when things were hard, he never wrote a day off as bad. He’d find adventure by driving down a road just to see where it went, or by discovering new music and insisting you listen to it too.”
At five foot six and 130 pounds, Cole was small in stature but enormous in presence. Many of his friends–most of them over six feet tall–naturally followed his lead.
“You always knew when he was in a room,” Amy says. “When he was upstairs, we called him Thumper because he made so much noise. He was a force and just so enthusiastic about life.”
That enthusiasm found its truest expression outdoors. From the Hocking Hills and Rockbridge in Ohio to trails in West Virginia and Colorado, Cole approached nature with childlike wonder.
“When I hiked with Cole, it felt like I was seeing everything for the first time,” Amy says. “He noticed the trees, the stars, the way the light shifted and he wanted everyone else to notice it too.”
The Meaning Behind No Bad Days
Cole had No Bad Days tattooed on his leg as a personal reminder.
“He told me that no day was entirely bad,” Amy explains. “There was always something positive if you were willing to open your eyes and your heart and really look.”
It wasn’t blind optimism. Cole understood that perspective takes effort, especially on hard days. Sometimes, he believed, you had to dig deeper to find the good, but it was always there.
“The quiet of the outdoors made him feel free, alive,” Amy says. “That’s where he found peace and perspective. He used to say that when you step outside and sit alone with yourself, you realize it’s not the place–it’s you. Sometimes you just need a reset.”
“Since being without Cole, holding onto his motto–No Bad Days–has been a challenge,” Amy says. “But I’ve learned that the good in a particularly hard day often shows up quietly: in being there for a new friend who has also lost a son, in checking on a neighbor, or in choosing a simple act of kindness. When you become the good in someone else’s day, it has a way of finding you, too.”
Choosing a Reset: West Virginia and His Nana
In the fall of 2022, Cole chose exactly that–a reset.
He went to live with his Nana on her 23-acre farm in West Virginia, part of what was once a 95-acre family farm originally owned by Amy’s great-grandfather. Cole helped restore the property and immersed himself in the land he loved.
“He adored his Nana,” Amy says. “Living with her wasn’t accidental–it was intentional. He needed grounding, and he found it with her.”
During that season, Cole decided to get a dog–one who could keep up with his pace and share his love of the outdoors. Daisy Mae, a “newspaper dog” Cole found through a local trader paper, turned out to be the perfect match–energetic, adventurous, fiercely loyal, and always ready for the next hike.
“Unlike his friends,” Cole joked, “Daisy has no problem getting up at 5 a.m.”
Every Friday, Cole took his 82-year-old Nana on an adventure. He bought her boots and poles at REI and told her, “We’re gonna get your steps in.” Together, they discovered hidden coal mines, a mountaintop lake, and countless quiet moments that became treasured memories.
On Sundays, he took her to her small country church, drawn to the oldest members of the congregation.
“He always sought out the oldest person in the room,” Amy explains. “He believed people who had lived long lives had the best stories–and stories mattered to him more than anything.”
An Old Soul Who Loved Stories
Cole believed adventures led to better stories, and stories were what made life meaningful.
In August 2023, he backpacked 26 miles on Section 8 of the Colorado Trail with a close friend. Even when his friend struggled to keep pace, Cole noticed every detail and made sure the experience was shared. “That trip captured who he was,” Amy says. “Adventurous, curious, generous with his attention–and always wanting others to see the world the way he did.”
A Mother and Son, Deeply Connected
Cole and Amy shared an extraordinary bond, exchanging more than 46,000 pages of texts–photos, music, reflections, and daily moments woven together.
Sunrises and sunsets became their ritual. As a child, Cole would wake Amy to watch the sunrise. Later, when they were apart, they shared photos across the miles, staying connected.
Their last adventure together was in October 2023 at Nana’s farm. After Cole tackled a plumbing repair, he announced they had earned an adventure. They hiked a trail he was excited to share, Daisy Mae alongside them. That night, they sat on the front porch glider, listening to the forest come alive, watching lightning bugs dance as the stars performed overhead.
“When Cole shared something he loved, there was a childlike joy in him,” Amy says. “It was pure. It was infectious.”
Turning Grief into Purpose: The No Bad Days Project
After Cole’s passing, Amy faced the impossible question: How do you go on? The answer came through another question: What would Cole do?
Neither the first nor the second Christmas without him felt celebratory. But Amy knew Cole cared deeply about others, especially veterans experiencing homelessness. She, her husband, and her mother donated blankets, sleeping bags, hats, gloves, and scarves to a local volunteer office in Columbus in his name. They called it the Cole Stevens’ No Bad Days Project.
As the first anniversary approached, Amy feared people wouldn’t truly know Cole’s spirit. She was determined his story wouldn’t fade. So she taught herself to build a website to share his story and values.
“Cole believed you could learn almost anything if you tried,” she says. “He was always learning from YouTube videos. I took a page from his playbook.”
Choosing the American Hiking Society for Cole’s donate page felt right. It aligned perfectly with a young man who believed that experiencing life fully often began on foot.
A Legacy Rooted in the Trail
As a Life Scout, Cole loved learning about trees, tracking animals, and immersing himself in nature. He believed children needed time outdoors–away from screens–to notice beauty and gain perspective.
Through the No Bad Days Project, donations in Cole’s memory support the American Hiking Society’s mission to help people enjoy, share, and preserve the hiking experience.
Instead of sending flowers, some of Amy’s colleagues donated 23 trees–one for each year of Cole’s life–to Monongahela National Forest. Each year on his birthday, a ranger escorts Amy and Cole’s Nana to “Cole’s Forest,” where the trees stand together at the mountaintop.
“The ranger told us it was a sizable donation for one person,” Amy says. “They knew he was deeply loved.”
“We check on their progress for him,” she adds. “Seeing their growth feels like a reflection of his enduring spirit. That’s what he would have embraced–experiencing the world and noticing its beauty.”
Finding Cole in the Thin Places
Early in her grief journey, a man who had walked this heartbreaking path far longer than Amy shared words that stayed with her.
“Cole’s not in that little vial of ashes,” he told her. “He’s in the thin places–the places that take your breath away. Look for him there, and you’ll find him.”
Carrying His Spirit Forward
Cole lived more life in 23 years than many do in a lifetime. His absence is loud–but so is his presence.
“I will always be Cole’s mom,” Amy says. “Because of our relationship, I understood what mattered to him, I felt it. Continuing his story feels like a calling.”
“When you don’t have the opportunity to make new memories,” Amy reflects, “the ones you do have become everything.”
For those who never met Cole, Amy offers a simple invitation, one that captures how he lived:
“Breathe in the fresh air. Take the scenic route. Notice the wonders around you. Fully appreciate the people you love.”
“Hike as many places as you can. Chase the stars. Make the memories. Find your thin places. Share it–and remember: No Bad Days.”
To learn more about Cole’s story or to donate in his memory to American Hiking Society, visit colestevensnobaddaysproject.net. Every donation helps continue the legacy of a young man who believed that life’s greatest adventures–and greatest lessons–are found on the trail.
